by Vella Munn
"I can't see inside him, Luash. I don't know what led him to that decision."
She couldn't listen to any more of this. If she did, she would say things that neither of them could ever bury. Only what did it matter? Tomorrow she would be sent from here and he would return to the Black Hills.
"I wasn't supposed to tell you," he said, helping her to her feet.
"But you did. Why?"
For a heartbeat, his features remained immobile. Then, slowly, the shadows lifted. "Because it's not right. Because Modocs are human beings. I can't say where you'll be sent eventually; I'm not sure anyone knows."
"But together? You are sure?"
"Yes."
She nearly told him she could hear her heart beating again when she thought it had ceased to exist, but was stopped by what remained in his eyes.
Her world had fallen apart when Kientpoos surrendered, when she saw the chains being placed on his legs. This morning, maybe, the same emotion swamped Jed. They stood so close that she felt his breath skitter across her temple to disturb the white hairs there.
"Your president listened to you," she managed. "You pleaded with him to spare Slolux and Bamcho and he did."
"Life in prison—they may wish they were dead."
She shuddered at that, then took Jed's hands and placed them on either side of her neck. She thought he would look around to see who might be watching, but when he only continued to stare down at her, she realized she hadn't yet pulled him out of the dark place his emotions had taken him.
"Listen to me. Please," she begged. "Once I believed Eagle would spread his wings over everyone I love. I was wrong. He—maybe he no longer hears my heart beating."
"Don't say that."
It was hard to speak. Still, she forced herself to continue. "Eagle loves his mate and children; he has forgotten the Modoc woman he once knew. Jed—a seventeen-year-old boy alone in the world needed to belong to something. He chose the army. When he nearly lost his life, he vowed to hunt those who scarred him and left death around him. But you are no longer seventeen."
He blinked, his eyes now glazed. The emotion she'd been battling since a rope was placed around her beloved uncle's neck rose in her like a storm wave. Fighting it, she pressed Jed's hands even tighter against her and waited until he was looking at her clear-eyed again.
"Once Eagle gave my heart peace, but no longer."
"You're turning your back on him? Damnit, Luash, you can't!"
"I do what I must." She longed to touch her hair to see if the lone feather was still woven through it, but to do that she would have to release Jed. "I do not own my life. It is in the hands of your president, your army."
He stiffened. Her pain became stronger with each breath she took, would soon force her back to her knees. The sound of a woman crying tore her thoughts from Jed. Turning, she saw that Whe-cha had run up the ladder leading to the scaffold and was trying to stop an army man from cutting off Kientpoos's hair. Agony, horror, and outrage tore through her.
Before she could stumble after Whe-cha, Jed grabbed her and jerked her hard against him. "Luash! Stop!"
"No! They cannot—they cannot..." The warrior who'd tried to comfort Whe-cha a moment before scrambled up the scaffold and clutched her to him again. This time Whe-cha didn't try to pull away.
"He's dead, Luash. It doesn't matter. Listen to me!"
The force of Jed's words spun her back around. He was strength and dark power, a hated uniform and gray eyes that had found a home inside her. "What I told you about the Modocs staying together? I broke a soldier's promise by saying what I did. You can't tell the others. Do you understand me? You can't say anything!"
"No." She barely got the word out.
"I countermanded an order. I wouldn't have if I didn't love you."
Love? Shaking violently, she stared up into Jed's eyes. What did he mean? She couldn't think; the fort pulsed with the presence of those who'd come to see her uncle die. And Jed wore an army uniform.
"You want my silence?" she managed. "I am to say nothing to my people of what is to become of them?"
"Not until you reach Wyoming. That's the president's orders."
She yanked free, then doubled up her fists. "Love? You say love! And then you order me to allow my people's hearts to go on breaking?"
He said nothing, did nothing. Instead, his face now bleached of color, he simply stood before her.
"I hate you, Jed! You and your army! If I had a rifle, you would be dead!"
"No."
"Yes."
* * *
Somehow a day had passed. Luash remembered turning her back on Jed, watching Whe-cha and the brave walk away from her husband's body. Watched as arm in arm, Whe-cha and the brave returned to the stockade.
The day had beat on, one precious second after another. She tried not to look over the top of the heavy walls that held her prisoner to the trees and mountains beyond. Over and over again she'd prayed to Eagle until the strength for that too left her. She'd thought there'd been a shadow, the distant shape of a great bird high overhead, but that might have been only in her mind.
She'd forced herself not to think of Jed. Instead, doing as she was ordered, she'd pulled together her few belongings so she would be ready to leave her ancestors' home. She'd mourned with Whe-cha, holding on to Kientpoos's young wife with a strength that frightened and sustained them both through the long night.
Now she sat on a hard wagon to which four horses had been harnessed. Whe-cha, silent and red-eyed, sat near her, her shoulder resting against the brave known as Son of Schonchin. Cho-Cho was in another wagon with his wife and several others. Ha-kar-Jim and Cho-ocks, both silent and sullen, were in a third wagon surrounded by their families. She didn't know what had happened to the dead Modocs' bodies, or to Slolux and Barncho.
Her people wouldn't be ripped apart. Jed had said so and she believed him. Only he'd begged her to say nothing of that because if she did, all would know he had gone against his commanding officer's order.
Why should she care?
Because—the answer pushed its way through the blanket she'd tried to wrap around her heart—because he had said he loved her.
It wasn't enough. As long as he wore his uniform and stood beside the man named Custer, his words were nothing more than a high, thin cloud.
The wagon at the head of the line jerked and began moving. Numb, she stared at the Modocs in it. As one, their eyes scanned their surroundings. No one spoke, not even the soldiers who'd come to watch them leave or those who would be traveling with them. She told herself not to look around for Jed, but her heart wasn't easy to control.
With her fingers clamped over Eagle's mark in her hair, she stared into one pair of enemy eyes after another. They kept secret from her whatever they might be thinking. She told herself she was glad, that it mattered not at all what those who had vanquished her people thought, but if Jed could care enough to fight for the lives of two Modoc boys, maybe there were others who didn't hate.
Maybe.
Someone was coming toward her. Despite the distance between them, he stood out, different from all those staring faces. Although she knew it was Jed, for too long she couldn't make sense of what she was seeing. Then he was so close that there was nothing to see except the truth.
He wore, not yesterday's uniform, but the clothes he'd had on the day he returned from his long trip. He hadn't shaved and something had scuffed and dirtied his boots.
In his arms he carried an eaglet.
Her legs felt so weak that she wasn't sure they could support her weight. Still, she climbed out of the wagon and followed him to a quiet place near the edge of the woods. She couldn't take her eyes off the mound of fluff resting quietly against his chest.
"I've resigned," he said simply. "Turned in my uniform last night."
"Why?"
"Because I can't condone what the army's doing to you, the hell our government is putting your people through. The incompetence. It's been there for years
; I'm just now seeing it for what it is. I've decided..."
His words drifted on the wind, making her think of feathers. She hadn't cried yesterday because she was afraid that if she once gave in to tears, she would never be able to stop. Now emotion raged in her, all but robbing her of speech. With unsteady fingers, she touched the top of the eaglet's head. When he grew up, would he have his father's mark? "How..."
"Why do I have him?" Jed stared down at her, his eyes soft and clear. "I saw Eagle last night; he flew over me, hung there for so long—I went climbing first thing this morning. I don't know what I was doing, what I was thinking. I'm not sure I had any choice."
"No choice?"
"I wanted to see you, to tell you what I'd decided. Instead, I wound up on that crag looking up at the nest. Luash, Eagle came to me."
She wrapped her arms around her waist and began rocking back and forth.
"Then he returned to his nest. The next time I saw him—Eagle left his child at my feet."
Crying, she could only stare into Jed's eyes, and believe.
"I don't understand." He shifted the eaglet in his arms, glanced down at it, then carefully lowered it to the ground. The bird stared up at her, its beak slightly open, eyes bright and unafraid. "But I believe Eagle wants his son to go with us."
"Us?" Had the day suddenly turned cold? Was that what was responsible for her violent shivering?
"I've decided to come with you and your people."
Could he hear her silent question? She prayed he could because she couldn't force out a single sound. "Someone has to speak for the Modocs." His voice sounded rough, as if he too had come to the end of his ability to talk. "I've been talking to a religious group, the Quakers. They're willing to pay me to look after Modoc rights."
"You would do this thing? Work for Quakers?"
"Yes. If that's what you want."
What she wanted was to spend the rest of her life wrapped in Jed's arms. To watch Eagle's son grow until his wings were strong enough to lift him into the sky. "What are you saying?"
"That I love you."
Love. The word filled her until she felt as if she might burst from it. The unknown that made up her tomorrows still terrified her, but Jed was willing to speak for her people, live with them, with her, do what Kientpoos no longer could.
Eagle had trusted him with his son. •
"My heart is full of you," she whispered. "You touched it that first day; it has only become more so since then."
"You never told me."
"I did not understand. I believed that a Modoc heart and a soldier's could not beat as one. But you are no longer a soldier. You are a man and I, a woman. Maybe—maybe that is enough."
"What are you saying?"
Not sure whether she had the words for this, she took in her surroundings and tried to absorb enough memories to last for the rest of her life. Although she hadn't seen the Land of Burned Out Fires for months, the image remained strong and clean inside her. Even now, she imagined she could smell sage, feel the clean wind that always blew there, see—
Eagle.
Barely able to keep her feet under her, she riveted her attention on the gloriously dark shadow now drifting high above her. She knew Jed had seen it too, but they would talk about this later, later, when she no longer felt part of her spirit. Was no longer drinking in the silent message radiating out from Eagle.
Let your heart find peace, her spirit told her. Keep peace with you always. Peace and life and belief in tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
I cherish the gift of your son, she sent back her own message. I will keep him, and you, in my heart for as long as I live.
Jed wrapped his arm around her. Grateful for his strength, she sagged against him as Eagle's scream filled the air. Before it had finished echoing, his son spread his immature wings and answered Eagle's call.
"My God," Jed whispered. "My God."
Eagle was gone; the wind and wilderness had claimed him. And yet Luash remained strong, content. At peace for the first time in months. "Jed. I..."
"What, my love?" My love. "I—I love you."
"Oh, God."
Did he know what he had just said? It didn't matter, not now. Clinging to him, she looked over her shoulder at Fort Klamath and beyond that toward the Land of Burned Out Fires. She would take her memories with her. Eagle had given her and Jed his son and she cherished the gift. Jed would sustain her and she would live. Learn along with her people how to walk into tomorrow. With Eagle in her memory and Jed in her heart.
The End
Page forward for a Special Author's Note
followed by
WIND WARRIOR
The Soul Survivor Series
Book Three
Author's Note
After a number of moves, a year after the beginning of the war, the Modocs were settled at Seneca Springs in Oklahoma under close supervisions. Co-Cho served as chief until he was replaced by Bogus Charley who had participated in the attack on General Canby but escaped hanging because he helped the army hunt down Kientpoos. At Seneca Springs, the Modocs built their own barracks and farmed wheat and corn. Their children were sent to school there. Most of the Modocs eventually took white names. Unfortunately, almost fifty of the 153 exciles were dead by 1880, most from malaria. Cho-Cho and Cho-ocks died in 1890. Ha-kar-Jim, who outlived his son who was killed by a white, died in Oklahoma in 1879. Barncho died in prison, but Slolux was pardoned after serving five years at Alcatraz and lived until 1899.
In 1909 the government gave the Modocs permission to return to their original reservation near the Land of Burned Out Fires. Some of their descendants are still there, many dedicated to preserving what remains of their culture.
Although much of Modoc Lake, now Tule Lake, was drained to create farm land, the stronghold and other sites remain virtually untouched. Many visitors to Lava Beds National Monument say they sense the ghosts of those who lived and fought there. I'm one of them.
Page forward for
WIND WARRIOR
The Soul Survivor Series
Book Three
Wind Warrior
The Soul Survivors Series
Book Three
by
Vella Munn
Award-winning Author
WIND WARRIOR
Reviews & Accolades
"A fast-paced, action packed thriller that showcases two wonderful star-crossed lovers. Ms. Munn's brilliant homage to the lost culture of the Chumash makes this a fabulous historical romance."
~Harriet Klausner
"...a fascinating, well-researched, and exciting work of historical fiction."
~Affaire de Coeur
"Readers will be immediately drawn into this stirring novel. A powerful, exciting read."
~Romantic Times.
They will be carried
To the nest of the eagle
And remain there in joy.
Joy fills the world.
~Chumash song
Chapter 1
1809, near Point Concepcion, California territory
The wind tasted of morning. From where he crouched in the summer-dry grasses, the Chumash warrior Black Wolf pulled clean, already hot air deep into his lungs and gave thanks to Sun Spirit for not deserting the land that had seen his birth and would, he prayed, once again belong to the People.
The distant sounds of coyotes reached his ears, causing his nose to flare and his spine to stiffen. Xuxaw—coyote—cries meant many things: pleasure at a successful hunt, a male calling his mate to his side, aimless chatter.
And sometimes coyotes brought messages of death.
Every sense and muscle alert, Black Wolf took in his surroundings to assure himself that he shared the rise with no other humans. Then, teeth clenched against the pain in his side, he ran until his breath became labored. Stopping, he pressed his fingers against the discolored flesh that hid his broken ribs.
"Thank you, Wolf Spirit, for gifting me with strength," he whispered. "Tha
nk you, God of the Moon, for putting magic in the shaman's hands so that I may continue my journey."
His prayer finished, he allowed himself a small smile. His wound had forced him to spend too many days waiting for strength to return, but now he could run again. If his spear had gone as deep as he believed it had, the hated leatherjacket who'd injured him would never again force himself on a Chumash woman. Black Wolf's only regret was that the man had lived.
During his first venture out following his injury, a grizzly had stared at him with only a few hundred feet separating them, neither charging nor running away. In the massive beast's small, dark eyes he'd read curiosity and courage but not anger; they were two creatures with the same heart, touched by the same soul, and Black Wolf had asked that the grizzly's strength enter him.
Not sure whether the beast had been a true grizzly or a changing shaman was, in part, why he was on this slight hill overlooking the horse and wagon trail that led to the mission the Spanish called La Purisima Concepcion de Maria Santisima. Today he walked with a grizzly's heart beating in his chest; no matter what happened by the time the sun ended its journey, he would not fear for his life.
As light melted the last of the shadows, he took in every nuance of his surroundings. According to the brave who'd been watching the mission, the wounded leatherjacket had been carried south to the Santa Barbara Presidio, accompanied by the leatherjackets' leader.
That left three leatherjackets at the mission, but Black Wolf knew it was only a matter of time before others, and their killing weapons, arrived.
Picking up his spear from where he'd laid it on the ground beside him, he gripped it so tightly that his fingers threatened to cramp, then drove the elk bone tip into the dry earth.
Wolf Spirit! Fill me with your strength. Help me rid my ancestors' land of those who do not belong!
As he pulled his spear free, his gaze settled on the intricate network of scars on the back of his right forearm. He slowly traced the wolf's head outline, his thoughts going back to the day he'd put the fierce profile there with sharpened bone and ashes and belief.
